


A Fortuitous Affair

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Background Luna/Noctis, Fake Marriage, Good!Ardyn AU, Luna is the kind of oracle who tells the future in this one, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 20:31:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Ravus and Luna are the last of an overthrown royal house, on the run from those who would use Luna's prophetic powers for their own gain. While hiding from imperial soldiers, they happen upon two princes of Lucis, and a lie told in a moment of panic starts to take on a life of its own...Written for Ravus Week!





	A Fortuitous Affair

There was once a time when the Fenestala manor of Tenebrae was the home of queens. The long covered bridges that hung between buildings used to twinkle with silver light in the evening, while courtiers raced each other down the polished floors and their rulers presided in the throne room in the high atrium. There were gardens and groves and entire rooms made of glass, and the manor stood as a beacon of art and progress in an uncertain world. 

These days, the manor windows are dark and jagged with splintered wood. Kudzu has grown over the front entrance, and every now and then, bits of brick and marble tumble into the chasm below, booming like thunder as they fall. And the children of the Nox Fleuret family, those heirs to a ransacked throne, now run through the grasses of Duscae with a different sort of thunder in their ears, disappearing into the gloom of a mid-summer downpour.

"Ravus, we need to stop!" Luna shouts. She's small for a woman of twenty-three, and dressed in thin, wispy silk that clings to her skin and catches on the crystal chains hanging from her arms and neck. She's wearing her bother's boots, which slow her down a little, and it's true that she keeps lagging behind, but at least she isn't knee-deep in mud like Ravus. Ravus is barefoot and caked with filth, and he spits hair out of his mouth as he cranes around to stare into the dark. The rain is too thick to see clearly, but he can imagine shadows there, soldiers with keen eyes and swords sharp enough to splinter bone, stamping new creeks into the flooded hillside. 

"We'll keep going," he says. 

"Please." Luna's voice is low, and when she touches Ravus' shoulder, a bolt of pain runs through him, and he staggers with the force of it. He left his prosthetic back at the emperor's summer home, in the small apartment he and Luna used to share just off the main hall, and his body feels off-balance without it. He's been aching with phantom pains since before the storm rolled in, and there's a small part of him that just wants to lie down in a warm, dry bed and block out the world. He looks into Luna's haggard face and nods shortly.

"Just for a few hours," he says.

They stop at last at the stable doors of the First Star Inn, a narrow building wedged in a gap in the walls of Lestallum. Ravus has to break the lock, and wind rattles the doors to the chocobo stalls and causes a soft chorus of squawking as they enter. Rain soaks the sawdust on the floor, and Luna ducks in ahead of the rain and pulls Ravus' cheap leather jacket off her shoulders.

"I'm never wearing silk again," she says. She sits against the door to an empty stall, tugging at her borrowed boots. "Next time, I'll ask our captors for a pair of trousers."

"Don't talk like that," Ravus says. Luna shoots him a wary look and tips water onto the floor. The crystals on her neck and arms dig into her skin as she moves, and pearls jostle at her ears.

Ravus wedges the door shut with a plank of wood and kicks it to test the give. It won't last long against the emperor's soldiers. Nothing will. The last time they ran, Ravus had been sixteen, trapped in the bushes of the ruined Fenestala manor--Pinned on the end of a blade like some rare moth while the emperor stepped out of his carriage to examine Luna. Luna had stood there, her mother dead at her side, Ravus spitting blood in the grass, and spoke with the firm, quiet tones of a true oracle.

"You will die in your bed in eleven years," she'd said. "Before the first snowfall."

She never told him _how._

Ravus unbuttons his shirt one-handed. It's a ruin of blood in any case, and even if some of the mess has stained his trousers, at least the mud makes it harder to see. Ravus shoves the shirt in a pile of old rags and grabs a saddle blanket to dry off. 

"We'll be found soon," Luna says, and Ravus glances her way. Her eyes have the sharp gleam of prophecy, and she's holding the chains of crystal in both hands. "Whether we run or not."

"Did the gods give you any details this time?" Ravus asks. Luna frowns.

"A magician," she says. "I think we need to speak to a magician."

"Wonderful." Ravus shakes out his hair, scattering drops on a dusty black chocobo beside him. The chocobo gives him a wounded stare. "There can't be more than a hundred fake magic users in the city. Should be easy enough to track one down."

A few minutes with the saddle blanket doesn't do much more than muss their hair and make them look only marginally less wretched, so Ravus and Luna huddle together in an empty stall, Ravus' naked blade propped up in arm's reach. Luna lays her head on Ravus' shoulder, and when Ravus takes her hand, she holds him tight. They've always held each other like this, ever since that first night, when they were thrown in the back of a carriage, Ravus' wound bleeding sluggishly through his coat. Then, they didn't need Luna's gift to know where they were heading.

Ravus suspects they don't really need it now. Prophecy isn't necessary when the roads are thick with soldiers, or when signal flares flicker in the watch-lights of Lestallum. But he can be ready for them, at least. 

Luna is asleep at his side when the door to the inn swings open. Ravus shuffles back, awkwardly nudging Luna awake with his shoulder, as golden light floods the stables. A shadow blocks it, briefly, and footsteps thud closer, one set purposeful and heavy, the other short and sharp.

"Empire," a man says. Luna's hand finds Ravus' neck, holding him still. "Of course."

"Come, now, Noctis. Where's your sense of adventure?" This voice is lower still, with an aristocratic drawl that rivals Ravus' own. 

"It's on strike," says Noctis. A young man walks into view, his jaw clenched, dark hair hanging in his eyes. "It's not an adventure if we have to pack up and leave every time an imperial soldier shows up."

"We _could_ kill him, I suppose, but only think of the mess that would make."

"I don't know if you're talking about your clothes or the headlines," Noctis says. "And honestly? I don't _want_ to know. Let's just get out of here and--" He stops, and Ravus draws himself up as Noctis' gaze rakes over the stall, grinding to a halt on Luna. Luna makes a small, soft noise in the back of her throat, and Noctis' lips part slightly, his cheeks flushing with heat.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hello," Luna whispers back.

"Noct?" A tall, broad-shouldered man with Noctis' jawline and a mess of dark red hair leans against the stall door, and Ravus scrambles to his feet. The man grabs Ravus' sword before he can lunge for it, and holds it up to the light.

"That's ours," Ravus snaps.

"Imperial steel," the man says. "Curious."

("My name's Noctis," Noctis says. He's staring at Luna like a deer frozen in the woods. He holds out a hand, and Luna takes it with a sheepish smile.

"Lunafreya," Luna says.)

"We aren't from the empire," Ravus says. "Luna, let go of him."

("That's a beautiful name," Noctis breathes.)

"Oh, I doubt you are," says the man holding Ravus' sword. "A young man and a woman, one missing an arm, blonde hair... What do you think, Noct?"

"What?" Noct blinks. The man sighs and lowers the sword.

"Really, my boy, sometimes I do wonder--"

Ravus flinches back at the sound of voices further into the inn, and Noctis curses. The other man gives Luna a cursory glance, sighs again, and makes an odd gesture with his hand. A blanket appears, falling over his arm, and he tosses it to Luna. 

"Hide," he says, and Luna stares at him as though she's only just realized that he's there. "You. Young man. If I may direct you to the hay bale..."

"Now, wait a moment," Ravus says, but the man is already yanking open the door, and Ravus can hear the voices rising in the distance. A magician, Luna had said. They need to find a magician, and this man standing before him can make wool out of thin air... He steps forward, and the man takes Ravus by the arm and throws him into a pile of hay, where Ravus collapses with a sharp cry. The man crouches over him, hands braced on either side of his head, and Ravus looks up into golden eyes and a stern, unsmiling face.

"Just don't say anything," the man says.

"Your--sir!" A woman's voice, thick and panicked. "I'm so sorry, I know you said you needed to leave, but they insisted--"

"Gods above," the man says. He stands, and Ravus hears a gasp from the door. "A man can't get a moment alone?"

"I..."

"Excuse me," another man says, and Ravus sinks an inch into the hay as booted footsteps tap on the floor. "Sir, we have to put the inn on lockdown. There could be fugitives in the area--"

"Well, there aren't any here," Noctis says.

"Then who's that?" Ravus' heartbeat drums in his ears, and there's a shuffle of feet at the door.

"Him? Oh, well, if you must know, I thought I might spare a minute with my betrothed without my chaperone hounding us," the red-haired man says.

"I'm the chaperone," says Noct. "He isn't really subtle about it."

"Betrothed?" the woman asks.

"Why, yes. We've come to collect him," the man says. "Didn't you know?"

There's a short grunt from the soldier. "Gods. Fine. Just don't leave, any of you. We need to do a clean sweep of the inn."

"Of course," the man says. "I wouldn't dream of interfering."

They wait until the door clicks shut, and a large hand is thrust in Ravus' face, framed by a stiff cotton sleeve. Ravus knocks it aside and struggles to his feet while Noctis helps Luna out from under the blanket. 

"Betrothed?" Ravus asks, and the man smiles. 

"Try not to swoon in rapturous delight, my dear. I may never recover." The man plucks a piece of hay off Ravus' bare shoulder. "I do believe some sort of introduction is in order. My name is Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Duke of Lucis, and this is my nephew, who may be good for something one of these days."

"I try," Noct says, somberly.

"Thank you, your grace," Luna says. She's wrapped in the blanket, clutching it in her fists. "Our names are--"

"Oh, I know _your_ names," Ardyn says. "We read all about you in the official report this afternoon. You're Lunafreya and Ravus Nox Fleuret. The ones who killed the emperor."


End file.
